Blood Red and Emerald Green
by We Did It For The Glory
Summary: When the Viking's first met Scotland, she wasn't anything like they'd imagined.
1. Blood Red

**Here's something I wrote a while ago, I'm not sure if I'll actually turn it into a full blown story or leave it at this. But either way, enjoy!**

* * *

"Do I know you?" Her Scottish accent rang out as she looked down at the Viking who lay at her feet, cut up and bruised. "... You're another nation, aren't you?"

The Viking sat up, running his hand through his blonde hair and looked up, squinting in the sunlight as he could only make out red hair and green eyes through his blurred vision.

"Aye, you are... one of the Nordics?" She asked as she knelt beside him, taking a cloth from her pocket and dabbing a deep cut on the side of his face. "Scotland ain't a safe place, especially not for someone who doesn't know her lands."

"Who... who are you?" The blonde Viking asked, rubbing his blue eyes as he attempted to return his vision back to normal.

"I'm no one of importance." The woman said. "I'm just a ranger who roams the lands."

"... I am Denmark..." The man said. "Matthias... in human name." He said, trying to get all him memories together as the woman continued to clean the wounds on his face.

"Alasdair, Ally to most people." She responded. "You're a long way from home."

"I'm not aware of any settlements near here." Matthias spoke slowly, not quite trusting the woman who clearly hid something and his mind, not yet clear.

"These lands are my home; I go to wherever the wind might take me." She responded with a slight smile. "Do you have a camp anywhere near here?"

"Ja... east." He said as she helped him to his feet, a surprising feat of strength for the skinny woman.

While Denmark wore full armour, chainmail and thick furs, not to forget the battleaxe on his back, Alasdair wore nothing but dark green and brown ranger cloths and a bow and quiver on her back.

"How long have you lived alone out here?" Matthias asked as she let him lean on her as they walked.

"As long as I can remember and probably then some, it ain't a bad life out here." She offered as best shrug she could with the tall man's armoured muscular arm draped over her shoulders.

"Don't you have a family?" Matthias asked, not understanding how a woman survived these harsh conditions and cruel environment by herself, no one to protect her or look after her.

"No, if I do, they don't care about me or I wouldn't be here." She offered him a smile. "You got family then?"

His vision had started to clear; he finally saw her scar free face, how beautiful it was but with so many secrets hidden behind what seemed to be innocence. "... I have some brothers."

"Oh... must be nice." She said, dropping the subject. "So how far is this camp? I've only just come to this area."

"About two to three miles, I think." He raised his hand to his forehead, closing his eyes as if he was about to faint, his face losing colour for a few moments.

"Divin't faint on me lad, I'm strong but I don't think I could lug your sorry ass a couple mile." She said, gripping his arm.

"I'm fine." He said, opening his eyes quickly.

"Aye, sure you are. If you need to stop, tell me."

"I'll be fine." He said slowly and almost coldly.

"Aye, sure you will." She muttered sarcastically.

They walked in silence until they reached a small gathering, three men sat round a fire, chatting quietly but it died down as they watched the two people approach.

Alasdair helped Matthias sit. "You should check his wounds, they could be infected." She said as turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Denmark asked.

She looked over her shoulder, with a cold expression. "I've avoided civilisation for a long time, I don't plan to stop now."

"What can a woman do to protect herself?" He responded.

She didn't look at him. "Don't look now but there's a bear on your six."

The three uninjured men turned to see a large black, intent on killing them all bear approach them, growling lowly as slobber came from its mouth in disgusting drops, hitting the ground as it came closer.

Alasdair took her arrow from her back and notched an arrow, holding it up and letting out a breath before she let it go. It went straight into the bear's eye, followed by another that blinded it.

"It's just going to be angrier now; at least it can't see you. I'm not sure how good a bear's sense of smell is, or it's hearing for that matter." She said as she pulled a dagger from her boot. Her white bow forgotten on the ground as she slowly approached the bear, circling so that she came from behind it.

She slowly came closer as the Viking men just watched her in interest, saw how she quickly suck her dagger into the flesh on the bears neck, tearing it as she pushed it down and around and the shoved it in. They heard the bears roar, watched it fall to the ground and looked at her as she plunged another dagger that seemed to materialise out of thin air into the bear's heart.

"Don't you just love fighting for your life?" She asked as she pulled a cloth from her pocket and wiped the blood of her hands, pulled the daggers from the bear and then wiped the blood off them. "It really gives you a fuzzy feeling inside."

"You could have got hurt! A woman can't fight." Matthias said, standing but wincing as he did so.

"You really ain't accustom to the way of the Celtics, aye the men do most of the fighting but a woman always knows how to defend herself. They say a strong mother produces a strong son." Alasdair then offered a shrug. "Unless she gives birth to a girl and then it would be a strong lassie."

The tallest of the four men approached her; he was probably built the best and towered over her. Truly a Viking she heard from the tales as she stalked behind taverns and listened into conversations.

"I am Sveden." He said, his words slow but full of confidence.

"Alasdair... Or Scotland."

The four men stopped dead, in pure shock, unable to believe that the warrior of nightmares was just a young girl stood in front of them.

"What did you expect?" She asked. "Some 6 ft something man, built like a fortress and wields a sword in both hand." They all nodded.

She pointed to the east. "Your countries are that way, you can leave now."


	2. Emerald Green

**I honestly think the start of this is much more interesting than the end, so sorry. But the end is essential to the story (Jeez...) And sorry for the late update, all my updates are late because I managed to break my internet, and I couldn't do any research, since my phone can barely handle fan fic Pms (It's 3G on a blackberry...) So I didn't write anything while it was busted. But I fixed it. Hopefully.**

* * *

Alasdair sat just outside the camp, glaring out into the surrounding area. Her emerald eyes flickered around the place, waiting for something to spring on her. Small green lights flew in the air; they weren't dangerous but could attract something so fearsome even she was scared of it.

The sound of someone sitting next to her reached her eyes, she automatically went for her dagger but a soft pale hand grabbed it before she could reach it.

"I am not your enemy." She looked to see Norway who stared at her with passive purple eyes. "You have been alone a long time, Ja?" He asked.

She offered a brief nod before turning back to stare at the horizon. "The solitude is better than the back stabbing nature of civilisation."

"... That may be so." He turned and watched the horizon. "Do you see them too?"

She looked at him from the corner of her eye. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing, it's just a rare trait among our kind." He said.

"All the Kirkland family can see them, I'm not sure if it's a gift or a curse sometimes..." Her ear twitched as the sound of a breaking branch reached her ear. She flew up, notching a bow and aiming as she did so, closing one eye and readying to let it go.

Norway had stood, more slowly and had a short sword in hand. "... Do werewolves exist in these lands?"  
"... I supposedly killed them all over a century ago, could have left a couple which might have infected some people." She said. "If the claims about the witches on these lands are true, the witch could have recreated the curse."

"... Why can humans see werewolves?" He asked in slight wonder as the breaking of branches grew louder as the creature approached them.

"Everything can see them, same with vamps and other were-beasts, and they're half in the mythical realm and half in this realm." She said.

"Are we considered like that?" He mused. "Immortal... but once our country dies so do we."

"I ain't sure pondering our existence is a good idea." She said. "Now shut up."

A roar echoed past them and a dark figure leapt at them, Alasdair let an arrow go, notching another and letting that go. She swore and dived to the side as it landed in the spot she was in. She pulled out a dagger from her boot.

"... _Galla._" She cursed. "You're gonna need something silver Lukas, or yer gonna get fucked over."

"... Women shouldn't have such language." He murmured to himself.

Alasdair jumped back as the beast swiped at her. "Where the hell are your mates?" She asked.

"They went to scout a little further ahead." Norway responded.

Alasdair sighed and tacked the werewolf to the ground, she raised her dagger and pressed it into its throat, the blood squirting all over her as she rammed it and twisted, hoping the silver coating would be enough. She jumped back as the beast underneath her began to squirm.

It rose to its feet. Alasdair prepared to avoid another attack when a silver blade appeared in the middle of its chest and then it fell on the floor. Norway stood behind it, his sword covered in blood and he panted.

"That... was more difficult than I thought it would be."  
Scotland wiped some blood from her face, shaking her hand. "Why is werewolf blood so bloody thick?"

"... It appears that your almighty nation's presence didn't do a very good job of killing off the werewolves." He said, poking fun at her, in a possibly cold hearted way.

She rolled her eyes and didn't give him a response.

"We should dispose of the body." Norway said.

"Burn it." She replied. "It's the only way to make sure it stays dead."

He nodded and left, coming back with flint and tinder but Scotland only sighed, using what little druidic magic she knew and lit the body on fire, watching its hair light on fire, and the skin begin to melt and burn.

Through mystical eyes she could see the soul leave the plains of the living, departing from this cruel world to whatever lay after that. Perhaps it was nothingness, a heaven maybe, or reincarnation. Scotland never chose to debate what the afterlife was, it was a tiresome thing to think and she didn't plan on letting her nation fall anyway.

"Do you plan to be alone forever?" She was broken out of her trance by the sound of Denmark's voice. He approached them with a smile, but his eyes were serious. "You think society is going to continue to reject you?"

"I'll stay alone as long as I want tae." She said. "It ain't anybody's choice but mine."

"Well it's a stupid choice." Denmark said as he put his arm over her shoulder. "Why don't you join the Vikings? We're strong, awesome, and it'll be fun to you fight alongside us."

She lifted his arm and removed it. "Look, I'm Celtic; you're Norse so we don't get along. It's like two wolves gannin at each other's throats to prove who's stronger."

"Can't we just say fuck all expectations and make a team that can take over the world?" Denmark said his world clearly much different from hers.

"I don't desire the world." She said and looked off into the dark forest. "I live for the thrill of battle, aye but the world... it ain't... it wouldn't... be as wondrous."

"Ja but don't you want to prove you're the strongest?" He asked.

"Don't need to." She replied with an indifferent shrug. "Almost everyone is scared of me, those who aren't, are still cautious around me."

"Don't you ever get sick of being feared?" She looked at him with tired eyes and an expressionless face only to shrug once again.

"I'd rather be constantly feared than even welcome the idea of having a friend who could stab me in the back at any moment."

The Viking paused for a moment, watching her carefully before letting out a sigh. "We have to wait for one more."

Again Scotland shrugged and looked to the west; the sounds of howls reached her ears. They howled for the loss of one of their own, the vow of vengeance and hatred. Yet she wasn't fazed, she was indestructible, emotionally, physically and mentally. This land killed those who were weak, she'd live for many years upon it, this land and what it threw at her daily was no match.

She then glanced up to the stars, offering a small prayer. As a child she was told that the stars were their ancestors looking down upon them, watching them and guiding them. It seemed rather farfetched but it brought comfort, that the people she had once cared for were not gone all together, that even if a flicker of light in the sky was left of them, it meant she wasn't alone, not completely.

Even if she'd pretend otherwise, her greatest fear, what she considered to be her only fear, was the fear of being alone, the fear of no one caring for her, the fear that she'd be forgotten like many great nations before her had. Nations that the humans could not remember, nations that even some nations couldn't remember.

"What's your religion?"

"...My lands believe in Druidism." She stated simply to whoever had spoken. "I believe in no gods." She let out a sigh. "If they did exist why would the abandon us?"

"They haven't abandoned us!" Denmark said, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. "Why do you say such things?"

"My lands have faced my hardships, and I am the one they blame. I have no control if the crops grow or not, or if the hunt is successful or not. If a village or monastery is massacred by invaders or traitors, I am still blamed. They've already shunned me, abandoned me, and yet they still expect me to be able to control what happens. It is people like you, who come to my lands and make my life a living hell because you just can't leave it alone. Why are you here?"

"Our lands are almost barren, it's too cold to grow crops, and our countries are overcrowded."

"... My lands will not be added to your empire." She said. "You may have already conquered some of it but we will stop at nothing till you all lie dying on the floor; that is the way of the Celts. I'd run if I was you."

"What can you do?" He growled.

"What can't I do?" She replied. "I kept the Roman empire from my country through sheer force. They were so scared the built a wall to keep locked in our lands." She chuckled darkly. "And you think you've got something on me."

His hands tightened on her shoulders but she didn't flinch, only looked him levelly in the eye. "Then why are you loosing?"

"Why are you here talking to me?" She asked. "Wouldn't it be more advisable to try and take me out, prove that you are indeed stronger than the Scottish presence and then be able to introduce Scotland into your empire that way?"

He didn't answer.

"It's because despite the three other Vikings with you, and this one you say is coming, you still doubt that you can win." She said with sigh, placing a hand on his pale cheek, bare from any stubble as she looked into his blue eyes. "Do you wish to take out the beast that first caused me to come to you?"

He gave a slight nod.

"Then follow me for a while."

* * *

**I'm kind of confused with the whole Viking's invading Scotland thing, some sites say they didn't get very far in, other's say they took the whole of Scotland, others say they managed to get Shetland and the western Isles, so I think I'm going with the latter idea. I'm trying to make it vaguely factual, but seriously, don't take anything as fact here. Anyway, see you all later, I'll probably be updating on Monday, if not, next Monday, since I'm trying to keep it regular. And Monday seems like a good day.**


End file.
